


Point of No Return

by Vengeance_Angel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, could not be bothered with tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 04:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vengeance_Angel/pseuds/Vengeance_Angel
Summary: The story of the Boy-Who-Lived, who was never HJP. From conception, to unorthodox parents, to the fight for his life and freedom. Contains - slash, non-slash, cannibalism, not-quite-cannibalism, various levels of psychopathy, m-preg, sex, alcohol use and abuse, creatures, etc. JKR owns everything.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

 

Sirius sighed as a loud knock sounded at the front door. 

Remus tended to avoid being in the apartment at these times of year – the twice yearly oestrus that Sirius had dealt with since he hit puberty. Damned pure-bloods and their ridiculous dogma. ‘Carriers’, a magically created form of hermaphroditism was just taking things too far, in Sirius’s informed opinion. While the rituals to cause a carrier to be born had been outlawed long ago, once there was one in your bloodline, it could pop up again at any time.  
Anyway, it wasn’t like the Black scion was going to lose control of himself and jump his old school friend, but Remus still excused himself by saying that the other man ‘smelled funny’.  
  
The knocking came at the door again.  
  
Sirius placed the dildo he was about to have some fun with, on his bedspread and grabbed his discarded towel to provide some sort of cover. Still damp from his shower, and still horny thanks to the interrupting person, he pulled open the front door to stare down his visitor.

It was a man. No, correction, a werewolf; with bright amber eyes, hard-work type muscles covered in scarred olive skin, dressed in worn out jeans and a dark coloured shirt. The Werewolf’s dark hair was coarse and curly, pushed back from the male’s face, with a liberal addition of silver-grey through the top and creeping down the sides.  
While Sirius was looking his fill, the werewolf was too. The nostrils of his broad nose flared as he took in the scent of the young man before him. Sirius’s eyes became hooded, and he quirked his lips to take his expression from Haughty Boredom, to Effortless Seduction.

“Can I help you?” The wizard finally asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, showing himself off as best he could.

“Remus Lupin lives here.” The werewolf stated. “I was hoping to catch him.”

“He’s at work right now, I’m afraid.” Sirius hummed, taking a half-step back, subtly drawing the older man closer in the doorway.

“Perhaps you could entertain me until he returns, Lovely?”

“I’m sure we could find a way to kill some time.” Sirius agreed, taking a full step back this time, beckoning the other all the way inside.

In the blink of an eye, the front door was slammed, and Sirius found himself shoved up against the entry way wall, with a very interested werewolf sniffing at his neck.

“How Remus could leave, with your scent…” The man trailed off, engaging the wizard’s mouth in a heated kiss, hands grabbing Sirius’s legs to wrap around his waist. Sirius himself wasn’t idle, having un-buttoned the werewolf’s shirt, to grip on to thick, corded shoulders.

A calloused finger was soon at Sirius’s anus, feeling its way into the downward-facing valve, towards the front, hidden from sight. A growl came from the aroused werewolf and a second finger joined the first prying the young wizard open.

Sirius tossed his head back, letting lust cloud his brain. This was what he needed; a dirty fuck with a beast who would stretch him open, and use that moon-given knot to fill him up properly. Not some ‘vanilla’ wizard, with his very human, knot-less cock.

The act was over quickly, with Sirius’s orgasm tearing out of him, leaving his lupine partner with scratches across his broad back, and his penis lodged firmly inside the wizard pinned to the wall.

“The name’s Sirius.” He finally introduced himself, once he’d caught back his breath.

“Fenrir.” The other replied, slowly drawing away from Sirius and loosely tucking himself back into his jeans. “Remus’s half-brother.”   
He left the buttons of his jeans and shirt undone, not taking amber eyes from the naked man before him. Sirius left his dropped towel on the floor and headed, shamelessly naked, to the kitchen.

“Oh? Moony doesn’t mention you often. There’s a bit of an age gap, isn’t there?”

“Hmm.” Fenrir made an agreeing noise, following the younger man to keep him in sight. “Twelve years.”  
  
Sirius grabbed two muggle beers from the fridge, handing one to his guest. If he was going to spend the afternoon having rough mating-type sex with Moony’s older brother, he wanted a rough drink to set the mood. No sweet Butterbeer, nor smooth Fire whiskey would do.

“Well, he won’t be home for a few hours yet, so I guess you could hang out if you’ve got nothing else to do.” Sirius gave Fenrir a suggestive look, before strutting down the hall to his bedroom, letting the werewolf get a good view of his cum dripping down the back of Sirius’s leg.

Fenrir leered, sculling the beer, and crushing the empty can into a rough ball with his bare fist. He tossed the wad of aluminium over his shoulder before following the taunting backside.

Back in his bedroom, Sirius hurriedly tossed the prepared dildo under his bed out of sight. Grabbing his wand from the side table, the wizard performed a quick contraceptive charm – he wanted to have fun, not babies. There was a difference.

That was all he managed to get done, before he was pounced on.

 

* * *

 

Remus sighed as he stepped off the lift to the apartment he shared with Sirius. He hated these times of year, when the other man smelled so damn enticing. It made Moony pace agitatedly, and put forward ideas of grabbing his housemate and rutting like an animal. It all just made Remus feel even less like the respectable person he was desperately trying to be.

It took him a while to notice the odd scent in the hallway, so deep was Remus in his thoughts. ‘ _Werewolf_ ’ Moony’s instincts informed him. Remus brought out his wand, and approached the apartment door slowly.

It wasn’t locked, so Remus quickly darted inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible so as to not alert the intruding wolf. The tawny haired man doubled over suddenly, struggling to keep control of the wolf going ballistic inside his mind and magic. As soon as he was across the threshold, Remus was veritably smacked in the face with the rich scents of Sirius, sex and the other werewolf.

Pace quickening, Remus burst into his housemates’ room letting out a feral snarl. There on the bed was Sirius, with none other than Fenrir Greyback.

The renegade werewolf was kneeling upright on the bed behind Sirius, one hand splayed across the man’s chest holding his bedpartner up, the other wrapped around the young man’s penis. Sirius had his head resting back on one of Fenrir’s muscled shoulders, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling. His right hand was tangled in the werewolf’s coarse hair, and his left was reaching back to grope at a firm buttock.

Fenrir’s glowing eyes met Remus’s over Sirius’s left shoulder. Holding the other’s gaze, Fenrir deliberately bit down on the unblemished, milky skin before him. Sirius came, shuddering.  
Remus quickly backed out of the room, catching Fenrir’s leering grin.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re in trouble.” Fenrir joked, covering the collapsed form of Sirius.

“With who?” Sirius croaked. He was feeling decidedly worn out and in need of a nap.

“Your housemate.” Came the smug sounding reply. Sirius dropped his head forward, bouncing the mattress a little, and groaned. The older werewolf just snorted lightly and put back on his clothes, before setting out in search of his agitated little brother.

Fenrir was unsure whether he could call Remus ‘little’ anymore, he thought upon laying eyes on the other. Where Fenrir stood at a respectable 6 foot even, with intimidating muscle mass to boot; Remus at 20 years old, now towered at 6 foot 2”. He was obviously, though, using that new poison the wizards touted, ‘Wolfsbane’ or whatever, as the younger male was overly thin and sickly looking.

“Get out.” Remus snarled. Fenrir grinned unrepentantly.

“As you saw, I was invited in.” Was the smug reply. The younger werewolf sighed, and rubbed his forehead, agitatedly.

“What do you want, Greyback?”

“Tch.” He tutted, “Calling your own brother by his last name. I’m terribly hurt.”

“You lost the right to call me ‘family’ when you turned me into a werewolf!” Remus roared in the older males face. Suddenly, Remus was knocked down to the floor and crowded against one of the lower kitchen cabinets.

“You can blame your precious Dumbledore for that, you little shit!” Fenrir spat, drawing a clawed hand back to strike Remus again.

There was a fierce sizzle sound, and in the blink of an eye, both werewolves were crouched defensively on opposite kitchen counters. Sirius stood scowling in the kitchen doorway, a whip of molten silver trailing from his wand.

“No dog-fights in my kitchen.” The half-dressed Black scolded. He smelled lightly of soap and fresh water, having obviously taken a quick shower before the brothers got physical. A flick of his wand had the other two men flinching, and the silver whip evaporating into nothingness.

“Wish your cousin never taught you that one.” Remus muttered, keeping a wary eye on the man now heading for the glass cabinet. He did lower himself down from the counter though.

“Bella only made the spell to shoot silver. I fixed it into the whip.” Sirius corrected needlessly, whiskey tumbler now held in one hand.

“Don’t use that spell around me.” Fenrir snarled, finally having removed himself from his perch. Sirius spun abruptly, and pointed at the man with the hand still holding the tumbler.

“Don’t endanger the whiskey collection.” He snapped in reply. Decisively spinning back around, Sirius opened one of the pantry doors, exposing six shelves of nothing but alcohol. With a flick of his hand the whole thing rotated, giving a spinning display of every type and brand of whiskey one could imagine.

Remus looked away, vaguely embarrassed. Fenrir seemed slightly bug-eyed, though one eyebrow was rising incredulously.

 

* * *

    
Once Sirius had his guest and housemate ‘persuaded’ to sit civilly at the same table, he started the apparently over-due conversation.

“So what was that little titbit I over-heard in the kitchen, before I brought out the spell-that-shall-not-be-mentioned-around-the-metallically-challenged?”

Remus sulked into his cup of tea and said nothing. Fenrir took a gulp of his beer, and grunted agreeing.

“I was a Ravenclaw in Hogwarts; half-blood; my father had abandoned our mother and me. There were three werewolves who attended at the time. They spent the full-moon locked in a dungeon room, ‘cause Dumbledore didn’t want them returning to their packs and out of his influence all the time.” He began.

“The Headmaster’s not like that, and you know it. And there were no registered werewolves at Hogwarts before me.” Remus interrupted.

“Registering yourself like an unruly dog only came about recently. No one cared before, so long as you did your own shit, and kept your teeth to yourself.” The older werewolf scowled at the interruption. He had known that Remus was unlikely to listen, but he still saw the younger man as pack, and so kept on trying.

“Like you know anything about keeping teeth to yourself.” Remus muttered. Fenrir ignored the comment. Sirius watched the argument avidly over his whiskey, like it was a high rated muggle TV show.

“So Dumbledore kept the werewolf kids in a dungeon room for the full moons, even though it would have been better if he’d just let them go home. In my seventh year, they got out and bit a few kids. A couple died. Only me, and this little second year girl were outside the dorms and didn’t get eaten.” Fenrir bounced one knee agitatedly as he spoke, his gaze on his younger brother’s friend – the first person to actually want to listen. “We were sent to the nurse, can’t remember her name but she left shortly afterwards, and while I was deemed okay with only a graze ‘from tripping’, the girl had recognisable bite marks. The girl’s family sent her to St Mungo’s anyway for the next month, just to be sure. I don’t know what happened to her after that.

So, the kids who got loose from the dungeons turned back and were rounded up. They were all there – a third year, and two fifth years - still naked, cold and tired, and Dumbledore tells them that they killed other students the night before. Not because they should have been sent home for the full moon, like what happened with every other werewolf before Dumbledore got Headmaster; and not because one of the teachers didn’t secure the room properly like they should have. No. The old man tells these kids, right in front of me, Ma and her husband, and the reps from the School Governors, that they killed the other students because they’re monsters who just couldn’t control themselves. Then he waved forward the guys from RCMC, who killed those kids on the spot.”

There was a horrified silence.

“I was sent home, when I should have been sent with the other girl to St Mungo’s. And on the first full moon after the incident, I changed and bit the little five year old I shared a room with in the summers. My mother’s son with her new husband. My half-brother.” The man continued. “John Lupin threw me out then, and took a promotion in the ministry and his precious son’s guaranteed entrance to Hogwarts in exchange for his silence from Dumbledore.”

“And so you, Remus,” He finished, “Had the honour of being the last werewolf ever to attend Hogwarts.” Fenrir smiled and spread his arms in mocking congratulation.

“That is all lies!” Remus shouted, violently pushing himself from his chair. “You argued with my father after he threw you out, and so you snuck back in on the full moon and bit me in retribution. You dropped out of Hogwarts after getting in with the wrong crowd and getting yourself bitten. I got into Hogwarts on my own merit. Even Mother said so!”

“Oh please,” Fenrir countered, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “Ma would have agreed that the sky was purple if John said so, she was so in love with the fool. And you know it. I would suggest you feed old Daddy some truth potion, but he took his own life a few years ago, didn’t he? A guilty conscious perhaps?”

“This is bullshit. And you’re full of it. All you say is shit.” Remus grabbed his overcoat and stormed from the apartment, slamming the beleaguered front door on his way out.

Sirius poured himself another whiskey and offered the bottle to the large werewolf, who declined. After a moment more of silence, Fenrir finally broke.

“Alright can you put that stuff away now?” He asked, nodding towards Sirius’ ‘persuasion’. A small bottle of liquid silver sat innocently in the centre of the table.

“Oh this?” Sirius said glibly, “It’s really just muggle-made silver ink. I think they use aluminium to get the colour.” He picked up the small bottle and tossed it lightly in the air before catching it again.

“So we were in no danger at all this whole time?” The werewolf’s muscles shifted and bunched under his skin.

“Only the danger of looking like the most bad-ass werewolf ever! Looking like you’re immune to silver.” Was the cheeky reply.

Sirius found himself pinned chest down on the table the next second. The bottle of ink and the whiskey glass falling harmlessly to the carpet.

“Sneaky, sneaky.” Fenrir growled into the man’s ear, leaning over his back and holding him down. An agile, tanned hand had the wizard’s pants around his ankles.

“Stay.” He ordered, stepping away from the Black cautiously, ready for the man to disobey and try to stand up.

“Yes Alpha.” Sirius replied cheekily, grinning over his shoulder but staying sprawled half across the furniture.

Fenrir laughed, “You’re never getting rid of me now, Lovely.”

He spread the man’s buttocks with sure hands, and gave the opening presented to him a firm, broad tongued lick. Sirius promptly forgot about complaining about the nickname.

Fenrir finally left the apartment nearly an hour later, whistling contently and absolutely reeking of sweat and sex. Sirius, of course, would smell nicely of Fenrir once again.  
Hopefully the man would be too exhausted to shower again so soon – he had, after all, been unable to stand once Fenrir was through with him and had whined piteously to be carried to his bed.  
As an added bonus, the entire apartment now smelled like Fenrir; and not just Remus’ best friend. That was sure to piss the other wolf off to no end.

* * *

 

 

**Just cross-posting from ff.net. Thanks for reading!**

**-Vengeance**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  


* * *

 

  
Sirius hadn’t seen Fenrir Greyback again since the day he had finally told his side of the story to Remus, and been promptly disbelieved.  The wizard wanted the werewolf to visit him again, but wasn’t surprised the man hadn’t. They’d made no official plans or commitments, aside from that one afternoon of fun; but damn the sex was good, and Sirius really wouldn’t mind another round or two.

For now though, he really had to get his head back in the game, so to speak. Fantasising about the large werewolf was not a safe thing to be doing when you’re on the clock and about to raid a suspected Death Eater hide-out.

“Hello Lovely.” A voice came from the darkness, and the very devil Sirius was thinking of materialised from the surrounding night.

“Alphard.” James Potter nodded to the newcomer after recovering from his surprise.

“Alpha-rd?” Sirius questioned the werewolf. “Oh Ha ha.” Fenrir unrepentantly grinned at the man and then turned to his partner.

“The house is a decoy. Filled with traps too. You want the one across the road.”

“Really?” James sighed agitatedly, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “The other team’s been using that place’s front lawn when they do their surveillance.”

“I know.” Fenrir confirmed, “The guys inside have been laughing at them every time they set up for the shift.”

“Why’re you only telling us this now?” Sirius finally butted in.

“Let’s just say, they went back on a deal. So I’m being an agent of karma.” The werewolf answered with a sinister leer.  

“And what deal was that?” James asked suspiciously.

“Ah ah. Informing on myself was never part of our bargain, Mr Auror.” Fenrir mock scolded. James rolled his eyes but nodded in acceptance.  Law enforcement across the globe, muggle and magical alike, realise that organised crime was impossible to eradicate. It was just a matter of keeping it away from the notice of the general, innocent public.

“Did you know Remus has warded your entire floor from my entry?” Fenrir turned to Sirius alone, having fulfilled his ‘good deed’ of the day. “I’ve been wanting to see you, Lovely.”

“No, he only warded entry from the lift.” The wizard disagreed.

“You want me to go balcony climbing?” The larger man asked incredulously.

 “There’s a fire escape. Or are those muscles of yours just for show?” Sirius asked, stepping forward to stand chest-to-chest with the other man. “I suppose I’ll just have to entertain myself if that’s the case.”

Fenrir leaned his head forward, taking a deep sniff at Sirius’ neck. “I’ll see you after your shift then, Lovely.”  The man then melted soundlessly back into the darkness from which he came.

James looked to his best friend and partner, “I did not just see you organise to hook up with our Informant later tonight, right?”

“Of course not, Jamie.” Sirius denied. “You saw me organising to hook up with Moony’s brother. Completely different guy.”

“Whatever you say, mate. Whatever you say.”

 

* * *

 

It was nearly eight AM by the time Sirius reached the flat he shared with Remus. They’d caught the criminals they were after, thanks to ‘Alphard’s tip-off and had left the two wizards and one witch in the capable hands of the ministry guards until their trials could be processed. One of the guards had muttered about forgetting the trials and sending them straight on to Azkaban, and both Sirius and James had jumped down the guy’s throat about it. Where was the justice in just locking up people who might have been just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Granted that was pretty unlikely in this case, but better to be safe than sorry.

Sirius stumbled in the front door, leaving his shoes under, rather than on, the shoe rack and called out a ‘Honey I’m Home!’ which got no response. Remus had already left for his job in the muggle world.  The Black heir shuffled to his room before shucking his over-robe and trousers, collapsing face down on the bed in shirt, underpants and socks.

Fenrir could hear Sirius arriving home, from where he lounged on the open balcony. It was a rare sunny day, and he was enjoying the direct sunlight with a smoke. Climbing from the Fire escape to the balcony was child’s play for the werewolf, and jimmying the lock on the door even more so. He’d enjoyed a nap surrounded by the other man’s changed scent before stepping back out once the sun had risen.

The young man’s contraceptive charms had obviously failed at some point, last time Fenrir had seen him. He’d bet it was that time on the dining table. Fenrir smirked – that table could become a family heirloom. Generations of future Greybacks, conceived on the same carved wood dining table.  
The man’s smirk faded. He’d never considered actually siring cubs. Sure he knew it was a possibility whenever he took a fertile partner to bed, but his partners were never for more than one night, and if he ever saw them again they certainly weren’t knocked up.   
Then again, maybe it wasn’t even his. Who knows if the Black heir had been hopping into other’s beds in the past few weeks? The thought made his inner-wolf growl unhappily.   


Fenrir wasn’t sure why exactly he seemed to be rather attached to the young Black; attached enough to feel possessive at any rate.

Firstly it could be that werewolves are seasonal breeders. Hooking up during a fertile ‘season’ was pretty much asking for a 6 month relationship, until the next ‘season’ came around. Then you could either continue as you were with another claiming, or go your separate ways. Of course, having cubs was like signing yourself up for a three year commitment, minimum. Until the cub was weaned, you are both well and truly off the market. Fenrir being a werewolf for his entire adult life was subject to these instincts too.

Of course, less seriously, part of the attraction was simply that it pissed off Remus. The little shit had had everything: two loving parents, full Hogwarts education, and their mother’s inheritance when she passed away. Fenrir had been an ‘Oops baby’ and his Ma had never let him forget it. John Lupin had simply hated his very existence.

Maybe it was just the normality of it – having a relationship, of sorts. He was always so busy running business, making deals, keeping the pack in line; and then he could give himself a break and think about Sirius Black instead. Or waste some time trying to enter his home, despite Remus’ wards. It was like a tiny holiday for his brain.

A large part of Fenrir’s attraction to Sirius would definitely have to be that he was a Black. With the aptitude for Dark magic, good looks and mental instability came a vein of sexual deviancy, and Sirius had most certainly inherited the lot. Actively seeking out sex with a werewolf (yes he had spied the shape of that sex toy hidden under the man’s bed) and begging to be knotted… Fenrir licked his lips just remembering. He threw away the cigarette butt and slipped soundlessly back inside the apartment.

 

* * *

 

“Now that’s a nice view, Lovely.” Fenrir announced his presence to the half-asleep wizard. He carefully spread himself over Sirius’ back, then ground his quickly hardening cock against the other man’s backside. Sirius gave a pleased sounding moan, and rubbed back with his still clothed arse.

“Don’t call me Lovely. I’m a bloke, therefore not lovely.” The wizard argued. “Though I will accept ‘awesome’, ‘handsome’, ‘dashing’ or even ‘Hot Stuff’ as acceptable.”

“Hmmm. Nope.” Was the simple reply. Fenrir’s hands had by now worked off Sirius’ shirt and were eagerly heading lower. “Lovely. My Lovely.”

Sirius wiggled a little, trying to turn himself over, so he could undress the possessive werewolf. He was held in place by strong muscles.

“I have this pressing desire to mount you; claim you again. Remind you just who you’re mated to.” Fenrir growled lowly, not letting the other man move. “So you’re to stay right where you are.”  Sirius had since lost his underwear and shirt, while the werewolf was still fully dressed. One of Fenrir’s thumbs slid between Sirius’ cheeks and rubbed firmly against his eager opening.

“Claimed? Mated?” Sirius objected, though notably he ceased his efforts to change position. “Just when did I agree to that?” He let out another moan as the adventurous thumb finally entered him.

“When you had me fuck you in your fertile period. When you begged for my knot like a bitch in heat. When you let me mark you as you came.” Fenrir growled, roughly shoving his own clothes out of the way. He achingly slowly pushed into the man laying under him on the bed.

“And when your season comes around again, I’ll remove any competition and fill you up all over again.”

 

* * *

 

Fenrir was acting weird, in Sirius’ informed opinion. Ultra-possessive, always watching and not letting Sirius out of his sight for a second. His attention was very intense – almost like the man was concentrating or committing the wizard to memory.   
Strange occurrences required a serious drink, so Sirius headed for his beloved whiskey collection. Pouring two fingers, the large werewolf boxed Sirius in against the counter, and stole the glass out his hand.

“Been seeing anyone in the last, what, six weeks Lovely?” The taller man asked, sniffing at the expensive bourbon.

“No,” Sirius answered, watching Fenrir carefully out the corner of his eye. “I do know that much about werewolves since, you know, I live with one.” Fenrir hummed, sniffing the drink again and making no move to return it.

“That brother of mine been acting odd lately?”  Sirius began to wonder where these questions were going, and if they might explain Fenrir’s strange intensity.

“Yes!” The younger man agreed, temporarily distracted and turned in the other’s arms. “Did you really have to wipe your cum on the underside of the rug?” The werewolf smirked unrepentantly. “He spent two weeks sulking because the place apparently smelled of you, and then nearly a whole month trying to figure out why it _still_ smelled of you! He tried to set the rug on fire, and when I wouldn’t let him, Moony demanded I take it to the car wash.”

Fenrir stopped grinning abruptly. “Take the rug to a car wash? What?”

“The rug’s not really a rug. It’s my motorbike.” Was the flippant reply.

Fenrir allowed himself to be pushed out of the road. He quickly swallowed the drink from the glass he was still holding, and followed Sirius to the ‘not-really-a-rug’. He watched, bemused, as the coffee table was banished to the side of the room, and a small rune in the rug’s pattern was tapped by the wizard’s wand.   
True enough, the rug transformed back into its original state, of a black Harley Davidson motorcycle complete with side car. Fenrir was reluctantly impressed at the transfiguration matrix that would have had to go into that.

“Now,” Sirius spun and pinned the werewolf with a glare. “You’ve been sniffing me repeatedly since you got here; won’t let me out of your sight; went all possessive-alpha all over the place – not that I’m complaining when it’s in the bedroom, mind; asked about Remus’ funny behaviour; _and_ you stole my damn drink. What is your problem today?”

“My problem, huh Lovely?” Fenrir adopted a leer and backed Sirius into the would-be heirloom dining table. He grabbed the wrist of the wizard’s wand arm, knowing that as a Black this situation was liable to turn explosive at any moment. “Remember last time I had you up against this table, hmm?”

Sirius nodded, feeling a swoop of lust despite his current confusion.

“Did you remember your little contraceptive charms afterwards? Because the earlier ones would have to had worn off by then.” Fenrir purred in the man’s ear, taking another deep breath, inhaling his scent knowing now that the cub was definitely his.

 

* * *

 

Fenrir was right in thinking that the situation would get explosive, though it wasn’t Black who started it. Sirius, in fact, had frozen in place, eyes wide and jaw dropped.   
It was Remus coming back after finishing his shift at work, who started the train-wreck that was that afternoon.

“What are you doing here?” The tawny haired man shouted, barely in the door, and already able to sniff out the intruder. He rushed into the room and was promptly apprehended by the more muscular werewolf, instead of sending Fenrir tumbling like he’d intended.

“Hello Brother.” Fenrir snarled. “Been noticing anything different about your housemate lately? Anything you might have just ‘forgot’ to mention?” Remus’ eyes automatically drifted to the still stunned Sirius. “You can smell it right? You can tell that he’s carrying my cub.”

Remus looked guilty, but stayed mute.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius finally came out of his stupor. “Or told James, so he could tell me? Given a hint? Anything?”

Remus raised his hands placating. “Sirius, you’re an alcoholic and have been since our seventh year. Greyback is a career criminal, among other unsavoury personality traits. Do you really want to even try to bring a kid up like that?” He attempted to reason. “Besides with the way you drink your chances of carrying to term are practically nil. If you didn’t know then you couldn’t get as upset.”

A moment of absolute stillness before all hell broke loose.

“It’s MY choice what I want to try to do or not! And how dare you-”Sirius screamed at his housemate. Already his wand was in hand, and the infamous silver whip materialising.   
Fenrir physically tackled his younger brother to the ground, roaring like the angry beast he was and fists flying.  
The silver whip hit both werewolves mid-brawl, and they instinctively sprang apart to avoid further lashes.

“You gave me that bottle I wanted for ages, when you hate the Whiskey collection!” Sirius’s final accusation was able to be heard. “You’re trying to kill my baby!”

“You didn’t even know about it, or care till a few minutes ago!” Remus shouted back. Fenrir took advantage of Sirius’ attention being on the other man to dart into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Asked Remus, always on the lookout for the renegade werewolf to be doing something nefarious. Before the other two could catch up, Fenrir slammed open the pantry door and grabbed the central support for the rotating shelves. In his hurry, several of the bottles went crashing to the tiled floor, causing Sirius to run over. Before he could be prevented, Fenrir tore the support from the anchors in the floor and ceiling, destroying every last bottle of spirits and sending broken glass and splashes of bourbon everywhere.

“No more poison for you, Lovely.” The werewolf growled, and tossed the broken timber in Remus’s general direction.

“NO!” Shrieked Sirius, fire igniting behind his eyes. A slash of his still wielded wand with a wordless scream, and both werewolves were caught in a tornado of broken glass and alcohol, which tossed them out the front door.

Remus’s wards immediately apparated Fenrir to the outside of the building. Remus himself was pulled along as he had landed underneath his brother following the glass-tornado.

“That’s why you warded me out, huh Remus?” Fenrir spat, pulling himself up and away from the other man, blood starting to drip from his many glass cuts. “Didn’t want me to find out about the cub. Didn’t want me find out that you’re trying to kill MY child!”

Remus gained his feet, and began circling counter to his enraged brother. “You’d just raise another monster like you, biting children and ruining innocent lives. And dragging Sirius down with you.”

Snarling, Fenrir charged into Remus, dodging a wild punch with inhuman reflexes, and taking them both back to the ground.

“Biting you was an accident! I wouldn’t want a weak little shit like you in my pack anyway!” The larger werewolf rained punches and clawed scratches down on the pinned werewolf. “Everything’s a ‘curse’ to you. Something more for you to whine about. Doesn’t mean you get to poison my cub!”

Luckily for Remus, Aurors had arrived on the scene. Brawling werewolves on a muggle city street, were not exactly inconspicuous. The two were separated and detained.

Remus was released after twenty-four hours in a holding facility in the Ministry. Fenrir’s record went against him, and he was sentenced to three months at the Tower of London, Britain’s lower security prison. When he got out, the Alpha had a mate with cub to find.

 

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
Chapter 3

* * *

 

  
James was starting to get worried. Sirius hadn’t turned up for debriefing from the raid they’d done the other night. Of course, being in law enforcement, he’d heard about the incident with Remus and his brother getting arrested, but hadn’t thought Sirius would have been too badly off because of it.   
In all honesty, James had kind of expected Sirius to storm in, shout at one or both of the werewolves, flash around his bottle of muggle ink for a bit, and then refuse to bail either out if they’d dared ask. But since that hadn’t happened, James was heading to Sirius’s apartment and hoping his friend was okay.

Unfortunately, things weren’t looking too promising. There was glass strewn across the landing, and a stale whiskey smell permeated the air. The door was ajar, and there seemed to be a broken piece of cabinetry stopping it from closing properly. He was kind of glad Sirius had no neighbours, up in the penthouse. That’s all they needed, nosy muggles. However, maybe a neighbour or two would know what had actually happened at the apartment yesterday.

The first thing James saw, carefully pushing the door further open, was a trail of  broken glass and destruction, picture frames and posters torn from the walls and some rather suspicious looking claw marks – definitely from a werewolf. The trail of devastation led directly to the kitchen, where the young auror saw a foot. A recognisably tattooed foot, connected to a jean-clad leg, which connected to the rest of one Sirius Orion Black.

The disgraced Black heir was laying sprawled amongst the ruins of what had once been the man’s beloved Whiskey collection, at least two whole but empty vodka bottles, and several piles of vomit. His grey eyes were open but unfocused, muscles occasionally twitching uncoordinatedly.

“Shit! Sirius!” James swore, kneeling carelessly amongst the rubble and puddles, next to the form of his best friend. “What made you do this again?”

The last time James had seen his friend give himself alcohol poisoning was shortly after he’d realised what he’d almost done to Remus and Snape back in fifth year. The rest of the Marauders, with help from James’ parents during the summers, had successfully kept Padfoot away from all forms of alcohol until shortly before their NEWTs, when Sirius had legally been able to buy the stuff for himself and they were all more concentrated on other things.   
James had been endlessly glad that while Sirius had been drinking at his and Lily’s wedding, it had not been to the state of excess where the rest of the guests could tell the man was a rather seasoned alcoholic.   
Charlus Potter, James’s father had blamed Orion Black, who was a heavy drinker himself as an escape from his deranged harpy of a wife-cousin.

Neither of the Black brothers had learned any positive life skills in that household. And now one was missing, presumed deceased, and the other would be too soon, if James couldn’t get him to St Mungo’s quickly.

Gathering his long-time friend into his arms, James closed his eyes, concentrated, and apparated away.

 

* * *

 

Sirius turned restlessly in his narrow hospital bed. He’d been in St Mungo’s for four days now, and he wasn’t due to be released for at least another three. Just until the Healers were happy with his progress in detoxing. Alcohol rehabilitation usually only took three days in hospital, then another month or two with strict observation and check-ups.  
Due to Sirius’s ‘delicate condition’ some of the potions were unsuitable, so he had a much longer recovery ahead. Mind, in the muggle world alcohol detox would take months just through the reduction phase, and going ‘cold-turkey’ could very well kill you. Needless to say, Sirius was very glad to be a wizard in a first-world country.

Somehow, throughout it all, the Black heir had kept his pregnancy and both he and his team of healers were rather focussed on keeping it that way. Sirius didn’t care what Remus had shouted at him the last time they’d been in contact – he was still refusing to read written messages from his ex-housemate, never mind accepting his visits. Sirius didn’t even care that his mother was visiting that morning, shouting about his being a horrible son who didn’t go through a proper betrothal and now was knocked up by a disgusting half-breed. None of them mattered because this was his, Sirius Orion Black III’s, little puppy who would grow up to be healthy and happy and smart and cheeky and would probably be a canine animagus since all Blacks with the ability were.

It didn’t even matter if Fenrir didn’t come back for at least the pup, once he was released from The Tower. Well, Sirius was still trying to convince himself of that last one.

Finally Walburga seemed to have run out of steam for her tirade, because everyone knew she would never run out of insults and petty remarks. The woman huffed self-importantly, spun on her heel and marched out. Surprisingly Orion didn’t immediately follow. The elderly man took a step closer to his eldest son and heir’s bedside, before speaking for the first time now that his wife was no longer yelling.

“That child you carry is an heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Do not endanger the child’s life again.” Then he placed a small jewellery box on the bedside table, and left the room without another word.

Fingers shaking, Sirius picked up the box and opened it. Neatly presented on the white velvet was a baby bracelet, almost exactly the same as the one Sirius himself had worn as an infant. Before the traditional Heir’s ring, which Sirius had worn from age eleven right to the present, a child was presented with a bracelet to show that the infant wearing it was in the direct line for the Lordship.

Unlike his own baby bracelet, this one was made from white gold, instead of the traditional silver – an obvious concession for the puppy’s werewolf sire.   
Sirius remained holding the delicate piece for a quite a while after.

 

* * *

 

Fenrir Greyback was tracking. Not one of his favoured pastimes, but he needed to find his rather reckless mate. He needed to know whether his cub was surviving, or if Remus’s prediction had already come tragically true.

The large werewolf had spent the last three months locked up at the Tower of London, where the wizarding world still had one of their gaols. Not one to waste time, he’d concentrated on ‘networking’ and solidifying his and his pack’s presence in the criminal underworld. He’d recruited a few more werewolves to his causes, and even made an alliance with a vampire coven. Not a large one admittedly, but still a step in the right direction.

Sirius’s penthouse apartment had been cleaned out and abandoned months ago, so Fenrir had had to call in a favour. That had resulted in the man’s current actions – tracking the ward line at the back of the Potter cottage in Godric’s Hollow.  

Now downwind of the dwelling, the light breeze was able to carry the scents of those in residence straight to the werewolf’s sensitive nose.  There was the Potter Auror, who he sometimes met with in his role as ‘Alphard’, a woman he’d never met, and his quarry – one Sirius Black. Now confirmed as being in the right place, Fenrir stepped right up to the ward line and placed one booted foot just over the edge. It wasn’t enough to trigger the repellent parts of the ward structure, but would cause an annoying buzzing for the head of the household. The werewolf leaned back against a tree to wait.

Soon the late afternoon peace was split by the sound of careful footsteps. Careful for a human is easily audible for a werewolf. The stronger scent of James Potter identified Fenrir’s ‘greeter’.

“Move your damn foot.” The wizard snapped, removing an invisibility cloak upon sighting the sire of Sirius’s child.

“I’m here to see Sirius.” Was the reply, though Fenrir did shift his boot off the boundary line. James took a commanding stance on the inside of his wards. He crossed his arms, wand still in full view, and attempted to stare down the intruding werewolf. Fenrir was un-phased.

“Fenrir Louis Grey, born 27th June 1949 to mother Eloisa Doreen Grey, and father Unknown; Unconfirmed half-blood. Unconfirmed date of lycanthropy infection November ’66; officially dropped from the Hogwarts School Register that December, which lends credence _against_ the ministry records provided by Albus Dumbledore. Changed surname to ‘Greyback’ through Gringott’s in the later part of 1967 – recorded reason for change ‘F.U’.” Fenrir’s eyebrows had been steadily rising throughout the wizard’s speech, and at this point he snorted in amusement remembering the day. He still couldn’t believe the goblin filing the papers had actually written that down.

“Achieved rank of pack ‘Alpha’ in March 1969, after refusing the kill the priestess of an opposing pack. When threatened, killed the previous Alpha and took control of both packs. Has to date spent nineteen months incarcerated for various minor offences. Current age 31, unemployed, registered address unplottable.” James finished. “Did I miss anything?”  

“You missed the part where I’m currently Mated. And you’re standing in the way of letting me see him.” Fenrir stated blandly, internally surprised there was so much information about himself available.

“I’ll let you through the wards when I’m done threatening you.” James coolly replied. “If I could find out all this with only a brief look and a few casual conversations, just imagine what I could find if I really investigated? You wouldn’t be going to the Tower, you’d be in Azkaban.”  Fenrir finally stood up straight, standing nose-to-nose with the auror, with only the slightly luminescent wards separating them. James didn’t flinch and stared straight into glowing amber eyes. “My best friend is Heir Apparent to a Lordship, and currently pregnant. For some reason he is determined to make sure you get a say in the Puppy’s life despite your lack of social standing, or record of being a decent human being. You take your responsibility to Sirius seriously and keep your ‘work’ well away from him and my house, and we won’t have any issues. Understand?”

Fenrir bared his pointed teeth threateningly, but nodded so that he could get invited across the wards. Inside he was excited to hear that his cub was still alive and growing, and that Sirius himself was okay. Unnoticed to him, James had seen the werewolf’s eyes lighten at mention of the wizard’s best friend and the baby. James waved his wand and Fenrir stepped through the wards. Not waiting for his host, the werewolf unerringly tracked through the brush towards the house.   
  
It seemed like an odd match, a pureblood heir and a renegade werewolf, but hey, Sirius was a Black, and really that just explained everything as far as James was concerned.

 

* * *

 

Lily shrieked in surprise and defensively raised her wand. She’d turned around to pour the water for her afternoon tea, and there was a stranger standing in her kitchen doorway. Sirius came skidding into the room, wand already at the ready.   
  
“Oh! Fenrir!” The wizard sighed in relief, “You almost gave me a heart attack Lils. Where’s James?” The werewolf pointed negligently over his shoulder, where James Potter could just be seen through the kitchen door making his way back across the yard.   
  
“Should you be running?” He asked of Sirius.

“Pfft. I’m not made of glass.” The man refuted, and nodded for Fenrir to follow him further into the house. Fenrir did so with a smile too sharp to be considered friendly towards the shocked silent hostess.

“Maybe not.” Fenrir answered, catching up. “But you’re carrying my cub.”

“Exactly!” Snapped Sirius, taking a seat on the bed in the Potter’s spare room. “Being pregnant doesn’t make me some shrinking violet.”

The werewolf was unimpressed. “Got that out of your system now, Lovely?”

“No.” The younger man sulked. “I can rain all over everyone’s parades for hours yet.”

“Tch. Got better things to do.” Fenrir kneeled in front of the seated man, and pulled his jumper out of the way. At four and a bit months along there was a noticeable bump, in place of Sirius’s normally trim waistline. With a hand cupping each side, the older man leaned forward placing his cheek against the other wizard’s pregnant belly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, re-familiarising himself with his mate’s smell. 

Sirius sat feeling vaguely awkward, but somewhere still relieved to see the large werewolf again.

“So how long you hanging around for?” He broke the silence. Glowing amber eyes opened and focussed on Sirius’s face.

“I’ve got business to take care of tonight, but all this afternoon, you’re mine.” Fenrir moved up, kneeling between Sirius’ spread legs and laying the man across the bed. _“Silence the room unless you want your friends to hear you.”_

 _“You’re not exactly quiet either_ , you know?” Sirius reminded, taking his wand back out to apply the silencing charms.

“I don’t care who hears me getting off.” Fenrir shrugged. “And I’m rather proud when you’re screaming my name.”

 

* * *

 

Lily Potter sent her husband to collect his old school friend and his guest for dinner. Dutifully James headed up the hallway to the spare room that Sirius had been inhabiting the past three months while still under medical supervision. Not hearing any suspicious sounds, the wizard opened the door.

Fenrir Greyback was leaned against the headboard, Sirius kneeling astride the werewolf’s hips. Large tanned and scarred hands helped the smaller wizard to rise and lower himself. Sirius leaned forward to catch Fenrir’s mouth in a wet, tongue-full kiss.

James quickly shut the door again.

“Where’s Padfoot and Greyback?” Lily asked, when James returned to the dining room alone.

“Ah, they’re busy.” The dark haired man prevaricated, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he avoided thinking of what he’d walked in on. Luckily for James, Lily got the idea and dropped the subject, dishing up for just James and herself.

 

* * *

 

  
**I will get to more chapters as soon as inspiration strikes. Hope you've enjoyed the chapters I've already done.**

**-Vengeance**


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